Imposter
by Garnet5
Summary: A movie stars imposter leads to the disaperance of fans.
1. The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

Authors Notes: This is my first attempt, reviews are needed and very welcome, but *please* be kind.  
  
Disclaimer: None of the L&O characters belong to me. A little name- dropping of a few famous people is used for story purposes only. Any similarities to anyone real is purely a coincidence, and no harm what so ever is intended. Please don't anyone sue me, I don't have much worth taking anyway.  
  
Thanks for reading.  
  
  
  
  
  
Imposter Chapter 1 Author: Garnet  
  
Monday December 23, 2002 8:57 PM  
  
"Good. Evening. Welcome. To. The. World. Wide. Web. There. Is. Mail. Wait- ing. For. You." Jaime double clicked on the envelope icon, giggling to herself. Her heart pounded hard in her chest and she involuntarily held her breath as her eyes scanned the list of names her e-mail was from. Finding the one she was hoping was there, relief and excitement poured out of her in a rush of air as her breathing returned. She'd seen his name in her inbox for a few months now, but as she always did, she stared at it for a moment, reminding herself that this was real. It was really him. He was really writing to her. This talented, famous, wonderful man, that every woman in the world wanted, was writing to her. Her! She giggled with the thought, and quickly double clicked on the picture of the envelope next to his screen name, opening the e-mail.  
  
TO: Sassygoddess  
  
FROM: hells-survivor  
  
DATE: Monday, December 23, 2002 3:36PM  
  
RE: HELLO!  
  
Hi Jamie, how're you doing? Went to the Kelly's Christmas party last night. Had a good time. I've been to their house many times, but this was the first time I'd seen it with its halls decked. (How'd you like that reference? Not bad for a poor country boy, is it?) Michelle and David are two of my best friends. Very few people in LA are real, but they are. So are Tom and Rita. And the Spielberg's. They're real, nothing phony or flashy, just like the people at home. And you. Did you get the roses I sent?  
  
Jamie turned her head, focusing her attention to the corner of the desk and on the vase and the three-dozen roses that had arrived the day before. She pulled them to her gently, leaning her head down into the petals, and inhaled deeply. Bringing her head back up, she sighed deeply with happiness, then continued to read.  
  
  
  
I haven't sent flowers to a woman in a long time; my PA usually does it (most of the time, I don't even know she's done it!) Boy! Was I surprised at how much them suckers cost, but you're worth every penny! I'm sending you an---  
  
A knock on the front door interrupted her reading. "Damn it." Jaime mumbled and tore her eyes away from the screen, pushed her chair back and headed to the door.  
  
"Jamie Kirkland?" The man in a FedEx uniform asked.  
  
"Yes.?"  
  
"This is for you." He smiled as he handed her the cardboard envelope and his clipboard, ready for her signature.  
  
Jamie took the envelope first, glancing at the return address. M. Price in LA! Mark! She hurriedly scribbled her name, stepping back inside, not even realizing she shut the door on the FedEx mans wish of a Merry Christmas. Her fingers slipped with her excitement, and it was another moment before she had a firm enough grip on the pull-tab to rip open the envelope. Inside was another, smaller envelope with her name handwritten on the front. Her name in his handwriting! Laughing out loud with her excitement, she ripped open the second envelope and pulled out its contents. "OhmyGod!" She whispered to herself, and her fingers flew to her lips. "Oh." She sucked in her breath sharply, holding it as she read and reread, first the handwritten note, and then the rest. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" She danced around her living room, hoping, jumping, and squealing! Forcing herself to hold still, she again read the note he'd sent:  
  
"Jamie - you said you didn't have any special plans for Christmas, so come see me! Here's your ticket to LA. Don't bother to pack anything; I'll buy you what ever you need. I'm waiting for you. - Mark"  
  
He's waiting for her! Mark Price, movie star, Nation Magazines Most Beautiful Bachelor 2001, who could have any woman he wanted, and he's waiting for her! She flopped herself down on her couch, clutching the plane tickets to her chest, and fantasized her arrival in LA. She imagined Mark standing there, waiting, wearing glasses and a hat so he wouldn't be recognized. But she would know it was him. She'd wait, standing several feet in front of him, watching as he looked around, looking for her. Then his eyes would fall upon her, and he'd know. He'd just know it was her. They'd stare at each other for a moment, taking each other in. Knowing, feeling in the air, this was a momentous moment in their lives. A moment where the whole world would change for them. Sitting in her living room, Jamie's imagination flashed, and instead of the airport, she was sitting in a rocking chair, a crackling fire nearby. Two young children on her lap, another three on the floor at her feet. She was recalling that momentous moment, telling the children how their grandparents met on that long ago Christmas Eve. In her imagination, she looked across her grandchildren's heads, and met Marks eyes. The glow of the Christmas tree lights brightened his skin, and the elderly Jamie of imagination could feel his love radiating from him.  
  
Beep-beep. The noise coming from her pc brought Jamie back to reality. With an irritated glance, she stood from the sofa and made her way to the computer. Her screen showed a dialogue box over the abandoned e-mail.  
  
Mark: Jamie? Are you there?  
  
Jaime rushed to the desk, and began typing even before she sat down.  
  
Jamie: Yes, yes I'm here! Oh Thank You, Thank You, THANK YOU. I can't wait to see you. Mark: Me too. I'm glad the tickets got there. It won't be a problem? Jamie: No. Not at all. Mark: Good.  
  
They went on that way for another hours. Mark telling Jamie all the Hollywood sights he would take her to. Jamie giggling and hopping up and down in her seat. Around midnight, Mark wrote:  
  
Mark: Well, Sweetheart, I know it's late there in NY. You better get to bed, your flight's early tomorrow morning.  
  
Jamie: You're right, I suppose. I DO want to look rested, and perfect for you! -She typed in a smiley face-  
  
Mark: Darling, I've seen your heart and soul in your e-mails, and I already know that you're the most beautiful woman in the world. Goodnight My Love.  
  
A moment later, Jamie's computer flashed the message; "Mark has signed off" Jamie sat for a few moments, staring at his last message to her. She felt warm, as if he was hugging her from the other side of the country. Crawling into bed a few moments later, she let herself return to her fantasy, images of Hollywood parties, celebrities, and movie premiers clamored for her attention. She watched as yet to be made memories of future Christmas' danced across her minds eye. A small smile filled her lips as she drifted off into a contented sleep. Jamie had no idea that all these dreams would lead her to a nightmare she couldn't begin to imagine. 


	2. California Here We Come

January 14, 2003  
  
Captain Deakins opened his office door and walked across the office to where Goren and Eames sat. "I just talked to the brass. Missing Persons detectives have a case that the Chief of Detectives wants you two to take over. McWallis is waiting for you."  
  
Detective Tom Sutton was standing by the coffee pot when Alex and Bobby walked into their offices. Tom waved them over, and then gave his partner David Walton a light slap on the back to get his attention. "They're here," he said quietly.  
  
"Glad you could make it right over." Walton said sarcastically as he stood up from his desk, tugging at the waist of his pants. "Loot's waiting for us." Walton jerked his thumb toward a closed office door.  
  
Goren and Eames followed the detectives to the closed door and waited while the voice inside answered the knock. They had expected some resentment from the investigating detectives. It wasn't easy handing over a case, especially when you're forced to do it.  
  
"Goren. Eames." Susan McWallis shook their hands.  
  
"L.T." Goren said as he shook her hand. "What's your case?"  
  
McWallis returned to the other side of her desk, and sat down. "Jamie Kirkland, 23, reported missing. The last time anyone saw her was just before Christmas."  
  
"When was she reported missing?" Alex asked.  
  
"Four days ago. She lives alone, it was her office that finally called us."  
  
"She disappeared at Christmas?" Bobby asked.  
  
"Yes. But she didn't have plans to go out of town."  
  
"So what make this a Major Case?" Alex asked.  
  
"We checked her computer." Tom took over, " She belongs to an internet fan club for Mark Price."  
  
Bobby looked at Alex for help. "Movie star." She explained. Bobby nodded his head once in understanding and turned his attention back to the other detectives.  
  
"You've never heard of Mark Price?" Tom Sutton seemed surprised, and somehow offended. Goren shrugged in answer. Alex tried to hide a small smile.  
  
"Anyway. . ." Walton took over, "when we checked her e-mails, we found several to and from someone claiming to be Mark Price."  
  
"We also found records of chat conversations. We're still waiting on the transcripts from the provider." Tom reclaimed his story.  
  
"What's this Mark Price say?" Bobby asked.  
  
"He says he doesn't know her. And doesn't chat with any of his fans. To freaky."  
  
"So, why're we here?" Alex asked again.  
  
"I'm getting to that. CloudWay Airlines has a record of a Jamie Kirkland leaving Kennedy on the 24th, landing in LA."  
  
"How was the ticket paid for?" Bobby asked.  
  
"Credit card. Stolen credit card." Detective Walton answered. "The card was also used to pay for on line time at an LA Internet café."  
  
"The clerks there don't remember anything about the guy who used the card." Tom added. His tone of voice told Goren that he was trying to prove he'd done his job thoroughly.  
  
"No video surveillance?" Alex asked.  
  
"No."  
  
Goren held his hand up in the air, as if to say "so?"  
  
"LA found a body. Kirkland was never finger printed, so we had LAPD fax us a photo." Tom handed Eames the fax, Bobby maneuvered himself behind Alex so he could look at it over her shoulder. "Her co-works gave us a positive ID. It's her." Tom took a deep breath.  
  
"Cross's state lines, this is for the FBI." Alex told them.  
  
"We thought so too," Lt. McWillis answered. "But with everything going on, they told us to continue the investigation, and call them if we need them."  
  
Alex glanced over her shoulder to where Bobby still stood. "California here we come." 


	3. I Love LAPD

A million thank you's to Soph, Kiera and daf9 for your reviews. Your comments and encouragement are greatly appreciated.  
  
  
  
  
  
"California?" Deakins voice was raised in disbelief.  
  
"That's where the body is. And, we need to see the crime scene in person."  
  
Deakins sighed deeply, in resignation. "Ok, the mayors office doesn't like the link to that movie star anyway, they want it cleared up a.s.a.p. Book your tickets."  
  
~~~  
  
Boarding was still a half hour away. Bobby, tired of sitting, got up to stretch his legs and told Alex he was going to the newsstand they'd past on their way to the gate.  
  
A few minutes later, and Alex was as frustrated as he had been, so she picked herself up and went to join him, stopping first at a designer coffee shop. A few minutes later, balancing two steaming containers of coffee, she found him standing in front of a magazine rack that held issues of business and pc magazines. Alex wondered to herself what he was reading, Time, Newsweek. He noticed her approach and folded up the magazine in his hands. Alex stopped short, her hand in mid air, handing him his coffee. "Entertainment Weekly?" She cried out, and began to laugh. "I never figured you for a movie mag kind of guy."  
  
"Research." He told her, taking the coffee she was offering him before she spilled it. "There's an article on Mark Price." He showed her the cover.  
  
"Well you'd better bring it with you, they're boarding our flight."  
  
Bobby picked up the issues of US Weekly and People, since they both had Marks name on their covers. He had just enough time to pay for them and make his way back to the gate to meet Alex right before she boarded.  
  
~~~~  
  
Alex stepped onto the plane, smiled at the flight attendants and made her way through first class. Two steps into the steerage cabin, the isle was crammed with people, those who were struggling with their overhead bags, their seatbelts. Alex glanced over her shoulder at Bobby and she was suddenly reminded of one of their cases, the Tuxedo Hill case, as she'd come to call it in her mind. They'd had to search a private plane, one that Bobby's large frame barely fit into. She smiled at him now, with the memory. He was thinking the same thing, because as he returned her glance he said: "Tight fit in here." Just as he had on the private plane. The line finally began to move, and they found their seats.  
  
~~~  
  
They walked out of LAX and into the bright sunshine. Each slipped on their sunglasses as they approached their rental car. Alex climbed in behind the drivers seat as Bobby folded himself into the passenger side, and unfolded the map. She took the turns he pointed to, and soon they were at LAPD HQ.  
  
"Officer," Bobby called out getting a young patrolman's attention. "Can you tell me where we could find Detectives Stevens and Smith?"  
  
"Smith just walked inside." the patrolman ran up the front steps, trying to catch the sought after detective. Bobby and Alex followed his lead, hurrying up the steps after him.  
  
"Smith. Hey, Detective Smith." The patrolman called out across the lobby. Bobby scanned the people in the area the young officer was looking at. He watched as a tall black man, wearing a baseball cap turned around and began to walk toward them.  
  
"What's up Kelly?" He asked the officer.  
  
"These here detectives are looking for you." Officer Kelly told him, jerking his thumb toward Goren and Eames.  
  
Bobby Smith held out his hand. "NYPD?" he asked shaking Alex's hand first.  
  
"Alex Eames. I guess we were expected." Alex replied, looking after the young officer as he left the building. Smith gave her a puzzled look in answer. "We didn't tell him we're cops." Alex explained.  
  
"Oh." Smith gave a short low chuckle. "Kelly's pretty bright." Then he extended his hand to Goren. "Bobby Smith." He introduced himself.  
  
"Goren. Bobby Goren."  
  
"Come on up." Smith said turning and walking back to the elevator. "I'll introduce you to my partner, get you caught up with what we know."  
  
Abandoning all small talk, Goren started asking about the case right away. "M.E. determine cause of death?"  
  
"Suffocation. We found marks on her face and neck that suggest the perp put his hand over her nose and mouth until she stopped breathing."  
  
"Was she raped?" Alex asked.  
  
"Inconclusive." Smith paused as the elevator doors opened on his floor.  
  
"Joel." Smith called out a few feet away from their desks. He half turned, bringing Joel's attention to the new arrivals. "These are Detectives Goren and Eames, NYPD. They're here about the Kirkland case."  
  
Joel Stevens shook hand with Goren and Eames as they introduced themselves. Alex took control of the conversation.  
  
"You said the rape test was inconclusive, why?"  
  
Joel answered for his partner. "There was defiantly seamen, but no tearing or bruising. The ME found traces of sleeping pills in her system, not enough to kill her, but enough so that we think she was probably asleep when she was killed. Maybe even during the sex." He reached for two files on his desk as he spoke, handing one to Goren, the other to Alex. "Crime scene photos and the ME's report." He explained.  
  
Goren opened his folder and scanned the report. He was more interested in the photos, and after a moment he was standing in his familiar place behind Alex, looking over her shoulder.  
  
"Where do you want to go first, where she was found, or to the ME's office?" Smith asked.  
  
Alex looked to Goren. "The ME's office. I want to see the body." Goren said simply. 


	4. Besides That She Was Dead

Wednesday January 15, 2003 7:53AM - San Diego  
  
"MAIL CALL" the computerized voice hollered.  
  
"Damn it." Cheryl Zimmer muttered to herself, "Damn thing scares me every time." She clicked on her email icon and held her breath. Her heart wasn't beating at twice its normal rate just from the scare. She only had one email, and she smiled when she saw it. Looking over her shoulder, she checked to see if any of her co-workers, or, God forbid, her boss, was headed her way. With the coast clear, she opened the message and began to read.  
  
TO: KittyKat FROM: hells-survivor Tuesday January 14, 2003 8:52 PM RE: Hi Baby  
  
Good morning my darling, I hope you had pleasant dreams. Right now, as I'm writing this, we haven't spoken yet, but I plan on calling you as soon as they call a wrap for today. If it's not to late, I plan on calling you at home, but just in case I don't get the chance, I'm going to ask you this way.  
  
Cheryl gasped loudly, then quickly turned around checking to see if she was heard. He hadn't called her, "He must have filmed until the wee hours of the morning," she thought to herself. "Poor baby." She didn't realize she'd said that out loud until Sue from merchandising looked over from the copier.  
  
"I'm sorry, did you say something Cheryl?"  
  
"Um..No, just talking to myself." Cheryl gave her a "crazy ol' me" smile and Sue turned back to the copier.  
  
What I want to ask is, you mentioned you had some vacation time coming up, and I was wondering if you'd like to drive up to see me? We're filming in LA right now, and next week the crew and some other cast members go off to Mexico to do some shooting, so I have some free time on my hands. I was hoping to spend it with you. What do you say? Want to come to LA?  
  
"Yes! Oh God, do I!" Again Cheryl spoke out loud, and this time, Sue heard her loud and clear. She gave Cheryl a strange look before picking up her copies and moving away.  
  
Now, remember honey, as much as I want to tell the whole world about us, we can't just yet, so can you make up something to tell your boss? Send a reply as soon as you can. I'm waiting for you My Love, Mark.  
  
  
  
Cheryl clicked on the reply button and typed:  
  
Yes! Oh Mark, what a wonderful idea. I'm leaving in just a few minutes. How bout I meet you at Grauman's Chinese Theatre at 1 this afternoon. I'll see you then.  
  
Cheryl hit the power button on her pc, grabbed her purse and took off for her boss's office.  
  
~~~  
  
January 14, LA  
  
"Exhumed?" Alex asked confused.  
  
"Exhumed and on a plane to New York." The LA ME said shortly, as if he couldn't be bothered.  
  
"We didn't even know she'd been buried." Alex directed her question to the ME, but glanced over at Fearless Smith who had come with them.  
  
"The FBI couldn't figure out who she was, her fingerprints weren't on any file. All the missing person's that she matched weren't her..What were we supposed to do? Put her on ice forever?" The ME's voice carried an indignant tone. He didn't like women too much, and women cops even less so. And New Yorkers? Oh, don't get him started.  
  
Alex had been used to this kind of attitude, she'd delt with it from all her pre Bobby partners to one extent or another. She realized now she'd been spoiled the last few years, with Goren having treated her as the equal she is. The sneer Alex saw on the doctor's lips made her want to haul off and slug him. Goren knew what his partner was thinking, he stepped in before she could do something he knew she'd regret.  
  
"The state paid for the burial." He said.  
  
"Yes." The ME answered as if it had been a question. This one might be a New Yorker, but at least he was a man.  
  
Goren considered for a moment. "Was there anything unusual about her?"  
  
"You mean besides that she was dead?"  
  
Goren looked at Alex. She returned his look and rolled her eyes.  
  
"Yes, Doc, besides that." Fearless Smith said, getting tired of the ME's attitude.  
  
The doctor stared at Smith, trying to stare him down. After a moment, he gave up and opened Jamie Kirklands file, reading to refamiliarize himself.  
  
"Hmmm." He made the noise out loud. After another moment, he made it again. "Hmmm."  
  
Fearless had had enough. "What?"  
  
The doctor shut the file with a flourish. "Nothing. Suffocated and semen. Nothing else." He smiled, proud of himself for having gotten a rise out of Fearless.  
  
Smith turned toward the door, and threw a "Thanks" over his shoulder back toward the doctor. Goren and Eames followed him out.  
  
~~  
  
"Well?" Fearless asked when they'd settled into the car.  
  
"The site the body was found. Then we need to look at this Internet fan club Jamie belonged to."  
  
"Ok." Fearless said, reaching across into the front seat, he pointed Alex in the right direction. 


	5. Cheryl

Cheryl found a parking space a block away from the theatre. As she got out and locked the car door she began to look around her, as if Mark would have somehow been able to anticipate where she'd find parking.  
  
With a spring in her step she set off for the famous theatre and its sidewalk of stars hand and foot prints. Turning the corner on the street the theatre was on, Cheryl began to desperately look around her, her head turning left, then right again every few seconds in search of some sign of Mark. She glanced at her watch, she was a bit early. Pacing up and down the sidewalk, she stepped into a crevasse, stumbling just a little. Looking down to see what she'd gotten into, she realized she was standing in John Wayne's footprints, and they engulfed hers. Walking with her face pointed to the ground, like almost everyone else was doing, she didn't see his approach.  
  
"Cheryl?"  
  
Cheryl lifted her head with a flourish, a huge grin already spreading across her face. "Mark" She stopped abruptly. It wasn't him. It wasn't Mark. Before her stood an already balding man with a huge nose and crooked teeth. He could not be more unlike Mark if he'd tried. "Yes?" She asked him.  
  
"You are Cheryl, right? I would have guessed it in a second." The man smiled, showing her more of his crooked teeth. "Mark described you perfectly." He stuck out his hand. "Terrance. Terrance Sutton, I'm a childhood friend of Marks."  
  
"Mark?" Cheryl felt herself relax a little.  
  
"Yes, of course, who else knows you're here?"  
  
"No one." She shook her head reinforcing her answer.  
  
"Ah, see there?" He smiled again, and Cheryl felt herself returning his smile with one of her own. "Mark wanted to be here himself, but he was called to the studio, so he asked me to pick you up and take you to his house to wait on him."  
  
"His house?" Cheryl grinned, totally relaxed now.  
  
"Yeah, you won't believe this house of his.wait till you see it.." he stopped speaking and tilted his head just a little as if he just thought of something. "Where'd you park?"  
  
"Around the corner and up about a block."  
  
"Oh, fine, fine. You're car will be safe there. We'll take my convertible, have you ever been in a convertible?" The first few seconds of his smile sent a cold shiver down Cheryl spine, but then the smile changed, just the tinniest bit, and the chill went away, warmed by the bright California sun.  
  
~~~  
  
"Wow." Cheryl sputtered standing in the middle of the huge entryway. She raised her head and spun around trying to see everything at once. The floor beneath her feet alternated black and white tiles, and a huge crystal chandelier hung over head. A round table stood in the middle of the entryway, and sitting on top of it, was the largest flower arrangement Cheryl had ever seen.  
  
"Wow." She said again.  
  
"Yeah. Something, isn't it?" Terrance said tossing his keys onto the round table top, where they slid and clanked into the glass vase.  
  
"This is like." she paused, searching for the right words. "From a magazine."  
  
Terrance nodded in agreement. "Yeah. He sure has come a long way, this ain't nothing like when we were kids." He started for the large staircase that stood on their right. "Come on, wait till you see the upstairs."  
  
~~  
  
Goren sat in the back seat of the rental car. His arm propped on the windowsill, hand covering his eyes. They were on the way back to LAPD HQ, after leaving the public park where Jamie had been found.  
  
"Can't be helped, man. Sorry." Fearless said from the front seat. His head turned back over his shoulder, toward Goren. When he didn't get a response, Fearless glanced to Alex, in the drivers seat. She saw his glance out of the corner of her eye and returned it with a shrug, as if to say, 'don't worry about it.'  
  
Goren rubbed his eyes then let his hand fall into his lap. He didn't handle frustration well, and a compromised crime scene frustrated him more than just about anything. It had been over a week since Jamie's body had been found. LAPD had gathered all the evidence they could, and removed the crime scene tape, letting the general public wander all through his crime scene.  
  
"We're positive it was just a dump site, she wasn't killed there." Fearless said.  
  
No response from the backseat.  
  
Breaking the silence, Alex asked: "Have you spoken to Mark Price?"  
  
"Not him, his agent." Fearless said the word with a tone that made Alex smile. "Someone saying he's Mark Price on some e-mails doesn't really give us enough to demand an interview."  
  
"You'd think he'd want to clear his name."  
  
"Yeah..well..things work a little differently in Hollywood." Fearless said as he pointed up ahead where Alex needed to turn.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Well." He thought about the words to use ".an air of mystery is good for a movie stars career. Many a career has been saved by well timed scandal."  
  
"You're not suggesting.." Alex began and Fearless quickly cut her off.  
  
"No, no, not at all." He shook his head, waving his hands back and forth in front of him. "No, my gut says that Mark Price had nothing to do with this. I was just trying to explain why he might not be so quick to try to defend himself."  
  
"People will go see his movies for the same reason they'll rubber neck a car accident." Goren said from the backseat.  
  
"Well, well," Fearless pronounced as he turned in his seat toward Goren. "Another country heard from." Alex smiled, she was usually the only one around to tease Goren, and it was fun to have someone else doing it.  
  
~~  
  
Goren and Eames' body clocks said it was 10pm, and their day was beginning to show in the way they held themselves. Fearless and Stevens offered to go with them to dinner, show them the sights of LA and Hollywood. As much as Alex would have liked that, she knew she wouldn't have much fun, as tired as she was. Both she and Bobby declined the offer, and got directions to the nearest Best Western.  
  
After checking in, Bobby and Alex grabbed a sandwich from the restaurant and headed up to their rooms. In the elevator Bobby said: "Let me borrow your lap top for the night."  
  
"Gonna email your girlfriends?" Alex teased.  
  
Bobby ignored the jibe. "I'm going to join that fan club."  
  
"You're going to join an Internet fan club for a movie star you hadn't even heard of yesterday?"  
  
"Know a better way to figure out how he choose Jamie?"  
  
"We don't even know for sure her death is related to the website."  
  
"I've got nothing better to do, ok?"  
  
Bobby followed Alex to her room and waited at the door while she got the laptop. He took it from her, told her good night, and walked three doors down to his own room.  
  
~~  
  
"I'm having so much fun! When did you say Mark'd be back?" Cheryl was feeling very much at home, and had begun to lounge on the overstuffed dark green sofa.  
  
"He didn't know for sure, but it should be anytime now." Terrance answered, walking over to her with a glass in his hand. "Here, try this."  
  
Cheryl sat up on the sofa, taking the drink from him with a smile and took a sip.  
  
"Ummmm. What is it?"  
  
"Cranberry orange tea. Mark has it specially blended." Terrance took a sip from his own glass and smiled as Cheryl took two long swallows. "I made that glass just for you." The smile that sent shivers down Cheryl's spine returned, only it didn't change this time. She felt her eyes getting heavy, her arms and legs numb, as if they didn't belong to her. Her eyelids began to close, and she had to force them open. Terrance was suddenly at her side, taking her glass from her hand and putting it on the coffee table.  
  
"Don't worry, it's only some sleeping pills." He put her head in the crook of his arm, maneuvering her so she lay flat on the couch.  
  
"Sleep.pills?" Cheryl's eyes shut again, and she had to fight harder this time to get them to reopen. When they did, Terrance was kneeling on the floor in front of her, and what she thought saw, she couldn't be seeing. He was taking out his horrible teeth, straight, white teeth now filled that terrible smile. He ripped off the bulbous nose. Pausing a moment to gage her reaction, Terrance lifted his arm, his fingertips brushing against his forehead, where he grabbed his hair, and pulled it off. Now, instead of balding, he had a full head of brown hair.  
  
As her eyes closed one final time, Cheryl heard him whisper, "Sleep now, my darling. It's my turn to have fun." 


	6. Bobby the Shrieking Fangirl

Authors notes: A million Thank you's to Soph, daf9, Willows and most especially, Kierra, who gave me the name for this chapter. I only hope I can live up to your expectations.  
  
  
  
Back in his room, Bobby set the laptop on his bed, and his leather casebook next to it. Wiggling the knot of his tie, he loosened it, looping it off over his head. His jacket was next, flying a few feet in the air before it landed on the chair by the window. Unbuttoning his shirt, first the cuffs then the front, his finger worked the buttons on autopilot, his eyes stared at nothing, his mind on the case. He walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as he went back in the other room. He picked his suitcase up off the floor, plopping it on the bed. Pulling out his toiletries and carrying them back to the bathroom, he reached a hand in past the shower curtain, into the stream of water. It was hot enough.  
  
After a long hot shower, Bobby plugged in the laptop, signed on to the Internet and typed in the address of the fan group Jamie Kirkland had belonged to. By midnight he had read every message posted, paying particular attention to those Jamie had posted, trying to determine why the killer had singled her out. A few things stood out to him. Jamie had mentioned more than once that she lived alone, and gave a few telltale signs that she was lonely. He also noticed for the first three months of her membership, she posted daily, sometimes two or three times a day. But three months ago those posts dropped off to once or twice a week. Bobby reached over and grabbed his casebook, unzipped it and rifled through the pile of papers he'd accumulated through this case. He found the print outs of the private emails between Jamie and the person who said he was Mark Price. Comparing the dates, Bobby realized Jamie's posts to the group dropped off about the same time as Mark first emails to her. The more Jamie talked to what she thought was the "real thing" the less she needed to share with the group.  
  
After reading all the messages, Bobby felt confident enough he could join and be able to post as a "fangirl" as they called themselves. Now, for a screen name.he thought to himself, what would get the killers attention? He did a search, looking up Mark Prices movies, a list popped up on the screen in front of him. He scrolled down, until one caught his eye "Hells Survivor" the same as the screen name the killer had been using. Bobby read about the movie, an international spy kind of story, and came up with the screen name he would use. Returning to the fan page, Bobby joined the group as FeistyCheerleader, a play on the name of the female lead of "Hells Survivor" As his first post, he wrote:  
  
HI! I'm so glad to have found this group! I love Mark Price; I think he is the greatest actor in the WORLD. I'm so looking forward to discussing his movies with other girls who love him as much as I do. See ya later - FeistyCheerleader  
  
He read over what he'd written and shrugged his shoulders. It sounded like a young woman to him, but only time would tell if the killer would take the bait.  
  
~~  
  
Cheryl lay limp in his arms. Her left arm hung out at her side and bobbed up and down with each step he took. He tossed her in and shut the trunk door down hard. Stepping back, he put his hands on his hips and stared up at the house. He'd gotten lucky with this house, it had been built especially for privacy, and he'd been able to stay here, bring both Jamie and Cheryl here, with no one being the wiser. He had one more week before the owners came back from their month long vacation. Just enough time for one more.  
  
He clapped his hands together in anticipation, and went back into the house with a spring in his step. Heading upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, he went into the home office and sat down at the computer. Signing on to the Internet, he clicked on his email, intending to invite his next fangirl out to California, when one of the waiting messages caught his eye. "FeistyCheerleader, huh?" He chuckled to himself as he read the message. He raised his eyebrows, she seemed to have possibilities. Putting that to the back of his mind, he clicked on the New Outgoing Mail button and began to type. 


	7. Las Vegas Bound

The phone rang three minutes before his alarm was set to go off. Bobby woke up quickly, picking up the phone, answering with the sudden consciousness possessed only by cops, doctors and mothers. "Goren." He answered, knowing it was probably Eames. It was.  
  
"Bobby, Stevens just called, they've found another body."  
  
"Meet you in the hall in 10 minutes." Bobby hung up and flung the covers off of him at the same time he flung his feet to the floor. Damn it, another one, he thought to himself as he rubbed a hand over his eyes.  
  
Eight minutes later, as Bobby was shutting the door to his room, Alex stepped out of her room, three doors down, into the hall. "They know for sure it's the same perp?" he asked as he began down the hall toward her.  
  
"They'll put a rush on the tox screen, to look for the sleeping pills, but Smith and Stevens are positive it's the same guy."  
  
They'd reached the elevator and Bobby asked "Why's that?" as he pushed the down button. As if it had been waiting on them, the elevator doors opened immediately.  
  
"Because," Alex answered, as she followed him onto the elevator, "the dead girl was gripping an 8x10 photo of Mark Price."  
  
  
  
The killer had chosen to dump the new body in the same park he had left Jamie Kirkland in. The parking lot that had been so empty the day before was now buzzing with activity. Cops, TV news crews and their vans, even passers by stopped to watch. When Bobby and Alex pulled in, they saw Fearless standing near his car, cigarette smoke billowing out into the air. Flicking the cigarette away he raised a hand to Bobby and Alex in recognition as he walked over to where they parked.  
  
"Whatcha got?" Alex asked as she slammed the drivers' door shut.  
  
"White female, mid twenties."  
  
"Strangled?"  
  
"Probably, there's bruising around her neck, just like the other one. Joel's over there now, wanna take a look?"  
  
"Yeah." Bobby said and was already three steps ahead of Fearless and Alex.  
  
Joel Stevens stood over the dead girl, both of them under the low hanging branches of a large tree. He raised a hand as Bobby approached. Goren lifted his chin as a hello, and then crouched by the girl, slipping into a pair of latex gloves.  
  
Cheryl lay on the dew-wet grass on her back, the position of her head made it seem she was about to look at someone standing over her right shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was slightly open. The black and white photo of her favorite movie star was clutched in the fingers of her left hand, and rested near her head, as if she was holding a torch. Her right arm stretched out by her side. The bottom few buttons of her shirt were open, exposing her skin. Jeans were zipped and buttoned, as they should be, but when the killer had dumped her to the ground, Cheryl's legs had landed in a pile, the left lying over the right.  
  
Bobby used his index finger to push at the photo the dead girl clutched in her hand, it moved easily. "Placed in her hand post mortem." Bobby said aloud, to no one in particular. From her hand, he moved over to her neck. Gently clasping her chin, he turned her head to the left, then to the right again, studying the bruising. Bobby cocked his head, and leaned in further toward her neck. Gently, he let go of Cheryl's chin, letting her head come to rest in the same place the killer had. Reaching over her body, he grabbed her right hand, bringing her fingertips, and well-manicured nails up close to his face. Without letting go, he brought her other hand up, photo and all, and held the two hands side-by-side.  
  
After a moment, Bobby put her hands back down on the ground where he'd found them, and repositioned himself so his face was right above hers. With his mouth near the dead girls, Bobby reached down to her exposed abdomen, and pushed lightly. The last breath Cheryl had taken escaped through her open lips, and Bobby bent down even closer, bringing the hand that had been on her stomach up, cupping it around her mouth and nose.  
  
Standing behind him, Fearless cocked an eyebrow and glanced over at Joel, who, as an answer, shrugged his shoulders. They both turned to Alex, as if she could explain her partner's behavior. Alex only smiled slightly and shook her head. Bobby Goren cannot be explained, he has to be experienced.  
  
Standing up, Bobby turned toward the other detectives. "She didn't put up any kind of fight, there's no marks on her neck from her own nails, and her nails aren't broken. He gave her sleeping pills too. And, liquor."  
  
"Her breath?" Alex asked.  
  
Bobby nodded, "Smells like whiskey."  
  
From the parking lot, a LAPD uniformed officer called out "Detectives." All four looked over. "They found her car."  
  
~~~  
  
With his next "fan", Gabrielle Underwood, unable to make it to California with enough time for him to have fun with her before the owners of the house came back, Terrance Sutton invited her to Las Vegas instead. Like Jamie and Cheryl before her, Gabrielle left home with visions of bright lights, fabulous parties and a handsome movie star dancing in her head.  
  
Leaving the house presented Terrance with the only apprehension he'd felt up till now. He considered careful dusting and vacuuming, to rid the place of fingerprints and any other trace he or the girls may have left behind. In the end, with some doubt of his cleaning skills, he hired a cleaning crew, one of those Happy Housekeeper groups to come out and scrub from top to bottom. The next day, he hired another. And then a third. Terrance thought to himself if three sets of maids had missed anything; the cops more than likely would too. If the cops ever made it to this house.  
  
Terrance stood in the open doorway, leaning against the doorframe, as the last few cleaning people walked past him to their car. As the very last woman approached the door, Terrance, wearing his teeth, wig and false nose, gave her a smile that sent ice down her spine. She slipped past him, pressing her back up against the other side of the door, keeping as far away from him as she could. As he watched the maid scurry out to the safety of the company van, Terrance wondered to himself if she was a fan of Mark Prices. His lips pulled back over the false teeth in a foul grin as he shut the front door and walked to the car where his suitcases were already packed and hiding in the trunk.  
  
On his way to the desert highway that would take him to Vegas and Gabrielle, Terrance decided that he should dump the car, just in the off chance someone had seen him at the house, or at the park. Besides, he told himself, it was time to trade up anyway. He pulled into a car detailing shop and let them do their magic, telling them to make the inside look as new as they could make it look. While the workers were busy with Armor All and cotton swabs, Terrance went inside, to the little store full of magazines and auto accessories. He picked out, and purchased a pair of black driving gloves. When his car was done, he handed the attendant a twenty, slipped on the gloves, got comfortable behind the wheel, and headed to car thief heaven. The airport. 


	8. The Video

Bobby sat silently in the passenger seat of the rental, as Alex followed the LA detectives to the spot where Cheryl's beat up red Dodge had been found. Crime scene techs swarmed over the vehicle, already dusting for prints. They stepped aside when the detectives approached.  
  
Bobby paused a moment, standing at the open drivers side door, his eyes traveled up and down the car as he snapped on the second latex glove. Folding himself almost in half, Bobby sat down in the drivers seat at an angle, keeping his legs outside the car. Just like he had prodded the photo in the dead girls hands, Bobby now used a gloved finger to poke through the contents in the passenger seat. On top of an unfolded map of LA city streets lay a white piece of paper. Bobby picked it up and read it. Printed directions to Grauman's Chinese Theatre from a website. Climbing out from behind the steering wheel, Bobby stood in the open space between the car and the open drivers side door. Scanning the chaos around him, he finally made eye contact with Detective Stevens. "How far is Grauman's from here?"  
  
Both Stevens and Smith considered the question, turning around, facing the street to get their bearings. Stevens turned back around to face Goren "Just a few blocks."  
  
Bobby held the printed directions up, and shook the paper slightly "That's where she met him."  
  
~~  
  
The 450 miles of highway from Utah to Nevada are long and tedious. As Gabrielle Underwood drove, she let herself be lightly hypnotized by the broken yellow lines that sped toward her. She thought not about the life she was leaving, the run down apartment miles from the outskirts of Salt Lake City, the boring clerks job at the real estate company, not even her family. Her thoughts were only of Mark Price, MOVIE STAR, and the life she was going to have from that point on. She thought of the house they would live in together, in California, deciding against a mansion thinking a more intimate home would be better. She'd throw small dinner parties, the Hollywood elite gathered around her table, raving about her cooking. By the time she crossed the Utah/Nevada border she had named their children and was considering changing her own name.  
  
You can see the halo of Vegas before you can see the actual city. Gabrielle pulled over, stopping her car on the side of the road. She climbed out of the drivers seat, leaned against the open door and stared at the neon aura before her. Giving herself a mental hug, she scrambled back in behind the wheel and headed off to the new phase of her life.  
  
~~  
  
"We haven't walked this much since we left home" Alex quipped as she and Bobby rounded the corner and started stepping on stars imbedded in the sidewalk.  
  
In response, Bobby squinted his eyes against the strong LA sun. Fishing his sunglasses out of his pocket, he slipped them on, his gaze never leaving the object of his quest, Grauman's Chinese Theatre, half a block up the street.  
  
They approached the theater, not knowing what they were looking for. As Bobby looked around, soaking up the atmosphere, glancing at tourists who stood out among the LA natives, he heard Detective Stevens giving instructions for the uniformed officers. "I want one officer to go down each side of the street, both directions. Six blocks. Look for ATM's, store's with surveillance camera's pointed toward the door, anything and everything that might have gotten a picture of this freak." Joel's voice was restrained, but still commanding. A moment later a uniformed officer began his trek down the sidewalk, squeezing between Bobby and Alex, who stood on the sidewalk of stars, not looking down as everyone else was, but turning themselves in a small circle, each trying desperately to see something, anything. A sudden realization came to Bobby and he stopped, spinning back toward Alex. "That's why he had her meet him here." Alex, confused, glanced around, trying to figure out what Bobby meant with out him having to tell her. Bobby waited, knowing Alex would get it in a minute, and assuming Smith and Stevens would as well.  
  
"Everyone's looking down." Alex said with sudden confidence in her voice. "No one is looking up toward faces. He knew they wouldn't be seen." Bobby nodded his head slowly.  
  
~~  
  
Gabrielle sat sideways at the hotel bar, her right elbow propped on the polished marble. She nursed her rum and Coke, and every few minutes would glance around the room. Absent mindedly she'd pull on the hem of her skirt, readjust her bra straps, twirl an inch of hair around her finger, and after doing all that she'd scan the room again, her eyes stopping at the entrance, peering out into the lobby.  
  
"Are you waiting for someone?" A deep voice from behind her asked.  
  
Without turning toward the voice, Gabrielle said: "Yes. I am" with the practiced air of a woman who'd turned down many a man in many a bar. She flung her head toward the unseen man, her hair bounced across her back, the international signal for 'go away'  
  
The man behind her chuckled slightly when she did this, and she felt him moving closer in, putting himself on the bar stool next to her. She closed her eyes and took in a sharp breath when she felt his head right next to hers. Reaching for her purse that she'd let sit on top of the bar, her hand stopped in mid air as his words brushed her ear. "Gabrielle.I new you'd be feisty."  
  
~~  
  
Back at the LAPD office Stevens and Smith worked out of, Bobby sat at an unoccupied desk. Alex stood behind him peering over his shoulder as he logged on to the Internet and checked his fan group email. "Damn" Bobby muttered softly when he saw "No Messages"  
  
"Detectives." A voice called out from the other side of the room. Bobby and Alex turned toward the sound. Jim, an AV tech was standing in an office doorway, holding on to the doorframe with one hand as he stretched himself out into the room. He glanced toward the NYPD detectives, but when he spoke, it was directly to the LAPD ones. "I think we've got something."  
  
The office was full of computers, televisions, sound regulators, specialized VCR's and DVD players. So crowded was the room with the equipment, the four detectives had to cram themselves in to the limited space. The three male detectives, each being at least a little larger framed than the average man, felt especially squeezed in. Alex on the other hand was quite comfortable in her allotted small space. All the ATM and security tapes that had been found with in six blocks had been brought into this room to be scrutinized. One of those tapes was on the television, the frozen frame showing only the toes of one foot in the bottom left hand part of the screen.  
  
Sitting in front of the television, Jim waited for the detectives to file in then he turned toward the television screen. "I thought you might like to see this" he said slightly smugly. He flipped a switch and the foot on the screen began to move. Seconds later the whole leg was in few. The detectives watched as a woman with curly dark hair walked on to the screen.  
  
"Cheryl." Alex said, recognizing the dead girl they'd seen that morning.  
  
All four men nodded in agreement, eyes transfixed on the screen, waiting to see the face of the killer. Milliseconds after Cheryl came into view appeared a man. He walked on Cheryl's left, and was mostly blocked from the camera by Cheryl's body. When the couple, the killer and the victim, were about half way across the screen, the man's right arm slowly snaked out behind Cheryl's back, as if he was about to put his arm around her shoulders. Instead, his hand made a few motions from side to side, and then the killer returned his arm to his side.  
  
"What the hell was that?" Fearless asked.  
  
"Run it again Jim." Stevens said.  
  
Jim flipped a switch, and punched a button, the screen filled up with white lines as the tape rewound, after a momentary pause the action was going forward again. They all stared at the same event, the arm coming up, the hand movement.  
  
"Is he..?" Fearless' question drifted off in mid air, he was so confounded, he couldn't finish.  
  
"Yeah" Bobby said, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead with one hand. "He's waving at us." 


	9. MinnMin and FiestyCheerleader

Las Vegas - January 15th 1:45PM  
  
Gabrielle lay motionless on the bed, her body so heavy with relaxation; she was almost sunken into the mattress. He lay next to her, watching her breathe, the slow and deep up and down motion of her chest was nearly hypnotizing. He ran his fingertips lightly across her bare belly, if she'd been awake, she would have giggled at the tickling. His inner clock told him is was time. He sat up on the bed, in a kneeling position next to her. With one last long look at her peaceful face, he reached up over her head with one hand grabbing both her wrists and moving her arms back down, letting her hands rest on her stomach. He then maneuvered her legs, pulling them together, knees and feet touching side by side. He brushed a few stray strands of hair off of her face then caressed her cheek as he said his final goodbye. Her head bounced softly on the mattress when he took the pillow out from underneath it. Taking her chin in his hand, he held her face with a gentle firmness, and placed the pillow over her nose and mouth. He watched her chest, that hypnotizing motion, the up and down movements slowed, and after a few moments, finally stopped.  
  
~~  
  
"It wasn't the strangling that killed her." The ME said. This was a different doctor than the first one Bobby and Alex had encountered, the one who didn't like New Yorkers. This ME, a single woman, had no problem with New Yorkers, and stared directly at Bobby as she spoke. "The bruising was done post mortem, over kill you might say. Your vic died from a cocktail of sleeping pills and whiskey."  
  
"Over the counter pills?" Bobby asked, ignoring the intensity of the direct eye contact.  
  
"Yes, and a lot of them." The ME answered, giving up and moved toward her desk. "There weren't any gelatin capsules in her stomach."  
  
Alex interrupted "He mixed the powder in with her drink."  
  
"Yes" The doctor answered as she sat down and picked up a file on the desk. "And quite a lot of them too, judging by her tox screen. She would have been in a coma like state in moments."  
  
Bobby and Alex each nodded their thanks to the doctor and followed Fearless and Stevens out the door. In the hall the four detectives paused a moment. Alex took an exasperated breath and asked: "What now?"  
  
"I want to check that fan group site, see if he's taken the bait, or if I need to leave another message." Bobby told her.  
  
~~  
  
Terrance looked into the mirrored elevator wall and adjusted his wig. Pulling his lips back, he double checked his teeth and pushed on them with his thumbs. He hadn't worn the ugly teeth, the Austin Powers teeth, as he'd come to think of them. No, this time, he knew being as normal looking as possible was his best bet, knowing that a normal person leaving a hotel room wouldn't be thought about twice, would barely be remembered even once Gabrielle was found. The hall had been empty when he left room 1226 anyway. The elevator dinged as it stopped softly, a moment later the doors opened onto the 9th floor. Terrance stepped out of the elevator and had to step to the side to avoid being run over by a fat woman in a tent like dress and her balding husband who had been waiting for the elevator to take them to the lobby. They were in such a hurry to get to the slots, and the fortune that waited; neither of them took the first glance to the man exiting the elevator.  
  
Leaving the elevators behind Terrance started down the hall to his own room. His focus centered on who he was going to choose next. Mindy, he thought. Mindy was ripe for the picking. And there was that new girl, FeistyCheerleader, the one whose e-mail he had noticed, she had possibilities and his corral was getting a little empty. Terrance chuckled softly to himself as he let himself into his room, just three floors below Gabrielle's body.  
  
~~  
  
Alex called Deakins from her cell phone and told him about the second victim, while Bobby raised the screen of the lap top and logged on to the fan group. There weren't any private messages for him on his group email account. Cursing, he checked the main board and found several new messages posted. He read each one carefully; looking for some sign that one of the authors was the murder. When he didn't find any, he checked the members listing. Behind him he listened to Alex's half of the conversation with their captain. Not knowing what Cheryl's screen name had been, or even if she had belonged to the group, made his task more difficult. He scrolled down the members list, reading each of the hundreds of names. No one had used a first name. Remembering how Jamie's emails had slacked off after her killer had started talking to her, Bobby went back to the message boards and tried to figure out who had stopped posting recently. He heard Alex say goodbye to Deakins and her phone gave a short beep as she ended the call. She stood behind him, looking at the laptop from over his shoulder. "Anything?" she asked.  
  
Bobby shook his head. "So, I'm trying to figure out if Cheryl belonged to this group."  
  
"And if she did, at least we know for sure how he's picking out his victims, and who might be next." Alex finished his thought.  
  
Bobby nodded and continued scrolling through the posts. "Let me try to leave a message." Alex said. "Maybe you're not very good at sounding like a twenty year old air head." A small grin appeared. It wasn't often she was able to suggest to Bobby that he wasn't good at something, and she was enjoying it.  
  
"Yeah. Good idea. Maybe you will be better at sounding like an air head." Bobby said returning the teasing.  
  
Alex rolled her eyes, knowing she'd been beaten and went over to Fearless' desk to use his pc.  
  
~~  
  
Minneapolis, MN January 15 8:49PM  
  
TO: MinnMin  
  
FROM: hells-survivor  
  
Date: January 15 2003, 5:18 PM  
  
RE: HEY!!  
  
Hi Mindy Sweetheart, I'm sorry I haven't answered you sooner, but I've been busy with work. I'm in Vegas shooting, and we've run in to some technical troubles, so I have a few days off. How do you feel about coming out, spending some time with me? Let me know if you'd like to as soon as you can, and I'll get you on the next plane possible.  
  
I can't wait to meet you All my love, Mark  
  
Mindy stared at her screen in disbelief. This was it; she was finally going to get her chance. Her breathing turned fast and heavy, she clicked the reply button and began to type.  
  
~~  
  
Las Vegas  
  
"So I walked right up to him and told him I thought he was cute, and that he should take me out."  
  
"Wow! What'd he say?"  
  
"He said ok. We're going out tonight."  
  
The second maid, Helen, laughed at her friends' boldness, wishing she had her single life to live over again. She stopped at the door to room 1226 and gathered towels up in her arm from the cart. Still chuckling, she waved goodbye to the younger maid who kept walking down the hall, headed to her own assigned rooms. Helen rapped twice on the door "Maid service" she called out. No answer came from inside, and Helen assumed the quests were in the casino downstairs. Using her passkey, she let herself in and turned directly in to the bathroom. "Huh." She said aloud to herself. None of the towels had been used. She'd seen it before, most of the time actually. People check in, dump their bags in the room and head directly to the slots or the tables. She laid the fresher towels on the counter near the sink anyway, and double-checked the toilet paper supply. Finding everything in order, she stepped out into the main room intending to turn down the bed. Two steps past the bathroom threshold, she saw the bedcovers crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed. Sighing to herself, she took one more step before she saw the naked woman lying there. Flat on her back, with her hands resting on her stomach, no pillow underneath her head. Helen's senses screamed at her that something was wrong. "Lady?" She whispered cautiously. "Lady, you ok?" Helen quietly moved up to the bed, reaching out to touch the woman's arm. "Lady.." The arm was cool to the touch. "Oh my God." Helen whispered. Then she began to scream.  
  
~~  
  
Terrance tossed his napkin on to his plate and took one last sip of his ice tea, draining the glass. Standing up from the booth in the hotel restaurant, commotion in the lobby caught his attention. Watching through the glass that surrounded the restaurant, Terrance saw the hotel manager scurry across the lobby to meet a pretty red head and a tall black man as they entered the hotel. Each carried a kind of suitcase like unit. Leaving the restaurant, Terrance saw for the first time the red and blue lights that were flashing across the lobby floor, coming from outside. Melding in with the rest of the crowd that had gathered to watch the commotion, Terrance smiled in spite of himself. Gabrielle must have been found. These people, the ones with the brief case like equipment, they must be crime scene investigators, he guessed. Well, he thought to himself, Good luck to ya.  
  
Still smiling, he took the elevator up to his floor. By the time he had reached his room, all thoughts of Gabrielle and the people downstairs had left him, he was focused entirely on his e-mail, Mindy and that new girl, FeistyCheerleader. Shutting the door behind him, he went directly to his laptop. He'd left the Internet connection open, and immediately saw that he had messages waiting for him. Grinning horridly, he sat down at the desk and clicked on the envelope icon. FiestyCheerleader had posted a new message to the board, and Mindy had replied to his invitation. He read Mindy's first.  
  
TO: hells-survivor  
  
FROM: MinnMin  
  
Date: January 15 2003, 9:03PM  
  
RE: re: HEY!!  
  
Mark! I would LOVE to come to Vegas to see you! OMG! I can't tell you how excited I am! I checked, there's a flight leaving Minneapolis at six tomorrow morning, I've booked my ticket, I'll be in Vegas at 9am your time. See ya then, I can't wait!  
  
Terrance smiled, already planning what he was going to do with Mindy, and clicked on the posted message from FiestyCheerleader. He read her message, and knew she was the right kind of girl for him; a diehard Mark Price fan. He didn't click the reply button, that would have sent his message to everyone on the board. Instead he clicked on Fiesty's e-mail address to send her a private message. 


	10. The Meeting of Two Minds

A/N - Thank you VERY much to everyone for your reviews. Everyone has been so kind, and encouraging. Daf9- your fine wine comment was greatly appreciated, you made my day.  
  
Thanks again.  
  
Garnet.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
Las Vegas Morgue  
  
From a distance, it might have been a mirror image. Two men, similar enough in appearance, both wearing nondescript white lab coats, both bent over the table, peering indelicately into the face of the corpse.  
  
"Defiantly strangled." The younger of the two men said, straightening up from his bent position.  
  
The older man remained bent over, something having caught his eye. With out speaking, he reached for the tray of instruments on his right. Choosing a pair of six-inch long forceps, the older man clutched the jaw of the corpse; opening the victims mouth as wide as it would go. The younger man, his interest recaptured bent back down, his face inches away from the dead body's face. The forceps went into the gaping mouth, down in to the throat. Grasping his target, the older man, the ME, slowly pulled the forceps out, dropping the foreign object into the palm of his other hand. Both men bent in closer, examining what had just been in the corpse's throat.  
  
"What the hell is it?" The younger man asked.  
  
Before the doctor had a chance to reply, the doors behind them opened. "Gris" the red head from the hotel boldly strode into the room. Gil Grissom, the younger man at the table turned toward her, only half rising from his bent over position. "We've got a body, it's going to be a press case." The red head, Catherine Willows, reported.  
  
"What is it?" Grissom asked fully straightening up and facing Catherine.  
  
"Dead girl in the Grand."  
  
"Why would the press be interested in it?"  
  
"Because:" Catherine began "She's got a movie stars name branded into her stomach."  
  
~~  
  
Los Angles - January 15, 6:45PM  
  
Alex slapped a sandwich down onto the table next to Bobby. He glanced up at her, dragging himself out of his thoughts, long enough to say "Thanks" and went back to reading the screen of the lap top in front of him.  
  
Alex pulled a chair up next to him and sat down. "More research?" She asked after a moment.  
  
"Even if the perp isn't Mark Price, he knows enough to pose as him. . . ." Bobby paused a moment, turning in his chair to face Alex, his hands flew around in the air in front of him ". . . There's enough information, articles, interviews . . . anyone could say they were him in an email, and be able to get away with it."  
  
"Throw in some star struck girls, who would want to believe a movie star is singling them out," Alex began.  
  
"And you've got perfect victims." Bobby finished. "Look here." Bobby turned back toward the laptop and typed on the keyboard. The familiar home page of the fan group popped up on the screen. Bobby used the mouse, clicking a few times to get to what he wanted to show Alex. "This member. . . uh, KittyKat, was Cheryl." He glanced back at Alex and read her expression. "The paper we found in her car, the one with the directions to Grauman's on it, there was a website time and date stamp on the top of the page. I had them check their records of who got those directions at that time. That ISP lead me to an email address registered to Cheryl Zimmer, and was used as her membership address when she joined the fan group as KittyKat."  
  
Alex raised her eyebrows, surprised only a little. "So," she began, "what'd you lean about Cheryl from her posts?"  
  
Bobby's head ticked, just once, off to the side and back, "She was lonely, that's for sure." With a few more clicks, he brought up all of Cheryl's posts. Pointing to the screen, he explained. "She was posting everyday, sometimes several times a day . ." He paused, his hand raised in mid air, fingers pointing to the screen, twitching as if they didn't know where to point to first. "She doesn't come right out and say she's alone, but if you read between the lines, you can tell she was." He glanced back to Alex. "She never used the word 'we' always 'I'. . ." Again, he paused, the clues and hints he'd found tumbled over each other in his mind, and he struggled for a way to convey them all to Alex.  
  
He didn't get a chance to finish his thoughts. From his desk on the other side of the room, Detective Joel Stevens' called out "Eames! Goren!" They turned toward him, he was standing, his desk phone receiver clutched in his hand, "We've got another one." Joel told them then said something into the phone and hung it up.  
  
Immediately, Bobby and Alex stood and went over to Joel's desk. Fearless joined them seconds later. "Vic is a female, approximately 24, asphyxiated."  
  
"What's the connection to Mark Price?" Fearless asked.  
  
"His name was etched into the skin of her stomach." He pointed to the phone. "That was a Captain Brass with the LVPD, he's been reading about our case in the papers, and called as soon as he heard about their victim."  
  
"LVPD?" Alex asked, stressing the 'V'.  
  
"Yeah." Joel continued. "He's gone to Vegas."  
  
~~  
  
LVPD Capitan Bass walked into Gil Grissom's office and sat down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. "Grapevine says you didn't know who Mark Price was."  
  
"Not until two hours ago." Grissom answered, not looking up from the photos scattered across his desk.  
  
"LAPD has two murders that're probably connected. I called over there, and talked to a" Brass paused while he dug in his jacket pocket and fished out his notebook. "A Detective Stevens. NYPD is also involved."  
  
"NYPD?" Grissom interjected, looking up from the photos.  
  
"First vic lived in New York." Brass explained. "She was found in LA. NYPD thinks she was lured out to Calli by her killer. Over the Internet." He added.  
  
"The Internet?" Grissom considered the possibilities. "What about the other LA victim?"  
  
"Cheryl Zimmer, from San Diego. NYPD, a Detective . . . ." Brass paused again, looking down at his notes "Goren, he traced Zimmer, and the first vic, Jamie Kirkland, back to some Internet fan club of Mark Prices'." Brass stopped speaking and looked up from his notes, waiting for Grissom's next question. When none came, Brass stood up from the chair and began to leave the room. On his way out, he said "Goren and his partner, Eames, are on their way from LA. They should be here in a few hours."  
  
~~~  
  
With the finding of Gabrielle's body in Las Vegas, it had suddenly become the kind of case tabloids beg for. A serial killer, who may, or may not be one of America's favorite stars, preying on young women. Adding to the titillation, was the fact that Mark Price could not be found. His agent made excuses and pretext, but it was soon evident that even he didn't know where his most famous client was. Attention from the press made the mayors of all three cities nervous, and orders were passed down from Mayor to Chief to Captain to Detective. All information was to be shared, nothing held back, it didn't matter who solved the case, as long as it was solved. And solved before any one else died.  
  
At LAX, Smith and Stevens had whished them good luck, asking them to call with any news. Now, in Vegas, Goren ducked his head when he exited the small plane LAPD had arranged. Alex stood waiting for him at the bottom of the steps that had been rolled up to the plane when it came to a stop. Bobby glanced around at the neon lit sky, then trotted down the steps, joining Alex on the ground.  
  
A few yards ahead of them, both NYPD Detectives watched as a man they both recognized as a cop led another man and a woman toward them.  
  
They all came to a stop when their paths met. Brass spoke first "Detectives Goren and Eames?" They nodded. "Capitan Brass, LVPD" he introduced himself, and then pointed to the others. "Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows, Las Vegas crime lab." The two women shook hands and began walking side by side to the waiting vehicle.  
  
Grissom offered his hand. "Detective Goren."  
  
Bobby shook Gils hand. "Mr. Grissom."  
  
~~  
  
Catherine drove, Grissom in the front passenger seat. Bobby and Alex climbed in back. Brass followed behind in his own car.  
  
"What've you found?" Bobby asked as he clicked his seatbelt.  
  
Grissom turned in his seat to face them as best as his own seatbelt would allow. "The carving on her stomach was made by an average razor blade, no way to trace it. The room was registered to the vic, Gabrielle Underwood, and paid for in cash. None of the hotel staff remembers seeing her with anyone, and if anyone saw him leaving her room, we haven't found them yet."  
  
"Photos?" Alex asked.  
  
Grissom turned in the seat, reaching for a large envelope on the dashboard in front of him. He handed it to Alex. She undid the clasp and pulled out the black and white 8x10's, Bobby leaned over where he was able to see better. Even though the sky was pitch black, the bright lights of the strip lit up the Tahoe like it was day, and the graphic images were clearly visible.  
  
Catherine continued the list of evidence as she drove. "We found one hair within the sheets. Black; about an inch long. Synthetic, it came from a wig."  
  
Bobby looked up when she said that, making eye contact with Catherine in the rear view mirror.  
  
"What?" Catherine asked.  
  
Bobby shook his head. "Nothing. I was thinking a wig could point to the killer not being Price, but if it is Price. . . "  
  
Grissom interrupted finishing the sentence. "He'd just as likely be wearing a wig, to conceal his identity." Bobby nodded in agreement then turned his head to stare at the lights of the strip.  
  
"Been to Vegas before?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Just once." Bobby replied, still staring out the window. "My mother brought me here for a couple of weeks when I was 10."  
  
Alex heard the tone of her partner's voice, and glanced over at him. She could see his face reflected in the glass and caught his eye. Bobby gave her a short nod, answering her unspoken question, and turned himself and his attention back to the photos.  
  
"What about you, Detective? Ever been to Vegas?" Catherine asked glancing in the rear view to Alex.  
  
"No, first time. And call me Alex."  
  
"Were there any fingerprints, Grissom?" Bobby asked stretching his neck to look at Grissom in the seat in front of him.  
  
Grissom read from the file in front of him, not answering. His silence drew the attention of everyone in the car. After a moment, Catherine reached out her right hand, placing it on the pages Grissom was reading. Gil looked up startled, "What?"  
  
Catherine shook her head in disbelief, then answered Bobby's question herself. "No, the only fingerprints we found belong to the vic and the hotel maid who found the body."  
  
Grissom watched Catherine as she answered, momentarily confused, then realized Catherine was answering a question he hadn't heard. Outwardly ignoring the lapse, he turned again in his seat to face the detectives. "We've pulled the security tapes from the lobby, elevator and the hallway the vic's room was on. I've got people watching them now."  
  
"Ten to one he waves at the camera." Alex murmured. 


	11. Whiskey or Scotch?

If Bobby had taken Alex's bet, he would have lost. The Detectives from New York and the Las Vegas CSI's watched the video from the hotel lobby security camera. They watched at the woman who now lay dead in the morgue walked across the lobby. The man who walked next to her wore a large ten- gallon cowboy hat, and it covered most of his face. Alex and Bobby had watched the LA video so much, they were familiar with the perps walk, the way he held and moved himself. "It's him." Alex said quietly. Bobby nodded in agreement, still watching the video screen as the couple made their way across the lobby floor and waited by the bank of elevators. The woman stepped in closer to the elevator, pushing the call button, and in doing so, turned her back to the man she was with, the man who was about to kill her. As she did, the cowboy turned his face toward the ceiling, looking directly into the camera. The brim of the hat, and its shadow covered the distinguishing features of the face, but the smile could be seen. A big, broad smile, one that even in the grainy black and white film, showed off horrible teeth. His hand came up, pausing for a moment near the hat. No wiggling fingers, no movement, just up, pause, and back down. It was a wave nonetheless.  
  
"You know who he is?" Catherine asked, turning her attention away from the screen to look at the NYPD detectives.  
  
Alex shook her head. "No. But there was video of him and the second victim, Cheryl Zimmer, he waved at that camera too."  
  
The other CSI's in the room glanced back and forth among themselves. The tallest of the group, Warrick asked: "How's he picking his victims?"  
  
"He's using an Internet fan group of Mark Prices. We think he corresponds with each girl, probably telling them he is Mark." Bobby began.  
  
"That's why Gabrielle drove all the way from Utah, she thought she was meeting a movie star." Sara Sidle interjected.  
  
"Utah?" Alex asked.  
  
"Yeah, we found her car in the hotel parking lot." Sara answered.  
  
Bobby nodded his head. "If it is Mark Price, or an imposter." Bobby paused, not liking to say what he was about to "We don't know." He finally admitted.  
  
"We've joined the fan group, and posted messages, hoping that he'll take the bait, and ask us to meet him." Alex interjected.  
  
"He hasn't answered yet, probably working on another one of the members." Bobby continued Alex's thought. The room got silent, everyone thinking about the consequences of not finding this killer.  
  
Grissom broke the silence "Do you want to start with the crime scene or the body?"  
  
"The crime scene." Bobby answered simply, remembering the contaminated first LA scene.  
  
"Let's go." Grissom answered.  
  
~~  
  
The hotel room proved to be as disappointing as both LA scenes. What little there was to be found, had been and was being analyzed at the CSI labs. Alex and Brass had about the same amount of luck interviewing witnesses in the lobby. Intent on gambling, no one had noticed anything. Even the hotel staff had no recollection of Gabrielle or the man she was with.  
  
At the morgue, Bobby watched silently as the sheet covering Gabrielle's' body was pulled back, revealing her branded stomach. Bobby leaned down, his face inches away from the gashes that spelled out Mark Prices name. "Any idea what he used?" He asked with out looking up.  
  
"Razor blade, most likely." The doctor answered.  
  
"Sleeping pills in her system?" Alex asked, as she watched Bobby trace his fingers around the words carved into the dead girls flesh. He found an area not damaged, and just like he'd done with Cheryl, he pushed slightly. Grissom stood at the foot of the table, watching Bobby with great interest.  
  
"Yes. Tox screen show's an abundance of them, she probably was unconscious moments after ingestion." He'd turned away from the table to look at Alex as he answered her question. "Were the other victims drugged as well?"  
  
Alex nodded. "Alcohol, too. But no capsules in their stomachs. The LA ME thought the killer probably put the stuff in their drinks."  
  
The doctor nodded as he turned back toward the table. "I'll keep that in mind when I do the autopsy." He jerked his thumb toward Gil. "Grissom asked me to hold off on it til you had a chance to see her."  
  
Not raising from his bent over position, Bobby turned his attention to the end of the table, meeting Grissom in the eye.  
  
"Whiskey?" Alex asked moving up toward the table.  
  
"Scotch." Bobby answered as he straightened up.  
  
"That jives with the order from room service, two scotches, neat." Catherine told them from where she stood at the head of the table. Bobby and Alex both turned sharply at this revelation. "Room service?" Alex asked, her voice rising a little.  
  
Catherine held up both her hands in a 'hold off' gesture, "We've already spoken to the waiter who brought up the booze, he didn't see anyone in the room but her." She gestured toward Gabrielle lying on the table in front of her. "But he said the bathroom door was shut, and he heard the toilet flush just before the door closed behind him on his way out." Catherine paused a moment, gauging the detectives dispositions. Sensing she should continue, she said "Both glasses have been brought down to our print lab, as well as the bottle. We found prints of the vic, the waiter, and two other members of the kitchen staff. All three employees were in the kitchen when Gabrielle was killed."  
  
"What about the toilet handle?" Alex asked.  
  
Catherine nodded her head as she answered, "Dusted. Nothing, either wiped clean, or he used a towel when he flushed."  
  
"Damn." Bobby murmured and turned away from the rest of them, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  
  
"We work the night shift . . ." Grissom began "But you've been up all day. We'll get you to a hotel."  
  
Alex glanced behind her, finding Bobby's back still turned. Looking back to Grissom, she nodded.  
  
~~  
  
Terrance took one last look in the mirror over the dresser before he answered the knock on the door. His hands tightened the knot in the tie at his throat and then turned the knob.  
  
Mindy stood just outside the door, enveloped in an air of excitement. Her eyes sparkled and she wrung her hands together. "Mark!" the name came out in a breathy, eager voice.  
  
"No. . ." Terrance paused, not quite sure what to say. He'd had his practiced story ready for her, how Mark was running late, and he, Terrance, was to keep her company until Mark arrived. None of the other girls had mistaken him for Mark, and he was momentarily thrown. "No, I'm Terrance, I grew up with Mark . . ." he began.  
  
"Oh Mark!" Mindy giggled and playfully slapped his shoulder as she breezed past him, and into the room. "Wow!" She threw her arms out to her sides, as if to hug him, instead, she spun in a circle. "Wow!" She repeated, in that same breathy voice. "I knew movie stars lived in luxury, but . . . Wow!"  
  
Terrance, still in the open door way, his hand still on the knob, watched her, not understanding. He glanced around the room, it wasn't his idea of luxury, but then again, he told himself, he didn't know Mindy's circumstances in Minnesota. "Uh . . .Yeah, it's something isn't it?" Smiling, he shut the door, walking into the room to join her. 


	12. Conclusion

"Did you get a response?" Catherine asked as she leaned over Alex's shoulder looking at the laptop screen on the desk.  
  
"Yeah, we did." Alex punched a few buttons to bring up the e-mail, and glanced to Bobby to get his attention.  
  
Bobby and Grissom, in the corner discussing who knows what, neither Catherine nor Alex wanted to ask, looked up when they heard Alex's answer. With two giant steps, Bobby was at Alex's side and reading.  
  
"This guy's got a set of brass one's." Bobby muttered as he read.  
  
"I can't believe women fell for this crap." Was Alex's reaction. She glanced over her shoulder to Catherine, wanting another woman's opinion.  
  
Catherine shrugged, "I can imagine being lonely enough to believe anything. Wanting to believe a movie star picked you out of all the others."  
  
"Clark Gable was a movie star." Grissom interjected, still reading the e- mail.  
  
Bobby snorted, "Now him I've heard of."  
  
"Now that we've got his e-mail address, we can find his ISP, and maybe track him down." Alex looked to Grissom, "Can we do that from here?"  
  
With a slight smirk, Grissom nodded.  
  
~~  
  
"Com'on Mark. . . " Mindy whined, "this is really good. Here . . ." she stabbed a bite size piece of her steak and held the fork out in front of her, trying to feed it to Terrance. In response, he smiled and quickly opened his mouth for the offering. All the other girls he had had to persuade into trusting him. This one, she really thought he was Mark Price, so what the hell, he'd ordered room service. Dinner and champagne.  
  
"Can I check my e-mail?" Mindy asked, standing up and already headed to the laptop lying open on the desk.  
  
"Uh, yeah, ok." Terrance looked at the abandoned plate, still half full. Not only did Mindy think he was Mark, but she had a habit of dropping one thing, like dinner, and seemed to forget about it completely, only to pick up on something else, like her e-mail. "Ooppsie." Mindy said in a singsong voice. "Can you log on for me? Pppppllllleeesaaaassseeee." Terrance cringed openly, in spite of himself. He needed to get this done and over with, she was getting on his nerves. He also had the feeling that this one wasn't going to be as fun as the others. Mindy wasn't right in the head, it'd be more like putting the girl out of her misery.  
  
Terrance stood and walked over to the desk. He leaned over Mindy and typed in his password, and hit the return button.  
~~  
  
"Got him." The technician hollered across the room. In a flash he was surrounded by the NYPD detectives and half the Vegas CSI's.  
  
"Where is he?" Bobby asked anxiously.  
  
"The Regal."  
  
"Can you get a room number?"  
  
"No, his dial up connection is through the main switchboard."  
  
Bobby turned to Grissom "Can you get us there?"  
  
"In about three minutes." Catherine answered him, grabbing her keys and headed out the door.  
  
~~  
  
"Would you like some more champagne?" Terrance asked.  
  
Mindy giggled, a heehawing kind of noise that grated Terrance's nerves even more. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"  
  
"Of course not!" Terrance acted offended.  
  
"To bad. Yes, I would LOVE some more champagne please." She watched for a moment longer as he turned his back on her to pour. Turning back to the computer screen, she saw the tiny envelope in the corner of the screen, near the clock. 'Who could be e-mailing Mark?' She asked herself, 'We're here, I didn't send him anything, who else could there be?' Glancing behind her, she saw that he still had his back to her, and was reaching into his pants pocket. She quickly clicked on the envelope to see an e-mail from fiestycheerleader, one of the newer members of the fan group. 'How could she have gotten Marks address?' Glancing again over her shoulder, she saw the coast was still clear, so she clicked on the message, opening the email. It was a reply. Mark had written to this girl. 'He's betrayed you. He said you were the only one. He lied to you.' Mindy's face clouded over and she rose from the chair. Walking over to the bed, the only thought in her mind 'He's betrayed you. He's betrayed you.'  
  
~~  
  
"How do we find this guy once we get there?" Catherine asked from the drivers seat.  
  
From the back seat, Bobby met Catherine's glance in the rear view mirror. Slowly he shook his head. "I don't know. Door to door I guess. Ask everyone who fits the profile to go down to the lobby." He shrugged as if it was an off the cuff idea, and there had to be a better way.  
  
~~  
  
Terrance straightened up from his bent over position at the table just as Mindy approached him. She ran her hand up across his back as she cuddled up next to him. Taking the glass he held out to her, she moved in front of him, so they faced each other. He smiled as sweetly as he could at her, looking down on her face he realized something had changed; he just could tell what it was. There was something different about her eyes, the way she looked at him.  
  
Mindy set the glass down on the table next to her. He watched her do it with confusion and frustration, he wanted, needed, her to drink it, to fall asleep and finally shut up. She straddled the corner of the table, stretching her arms out behind her, propping herself up on them. She dipped her head to the side, and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Who's fiestycheerleader?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"What?" Terrance's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Oh!" he relaxed a little understanding. "Just a fan."  
  
"But you told me I was the only one."  
  
"Uh. . ." Terrance grasped for something to say, finally realizing what it was that had changed in Mindy's eyes.  
  
Mindy's hands moved as she readjusted weight, and her right hand bumped against her plate, her steak dinner still on it.  
  
~~  
  
They told the management who they were and why they were there. Starting on the first floor, they spread out, each taking a room and knocking on the door. There weren't many men staying there alone, and none of those they did find drew suspicion on themselves by refusing to go down to the lobby where Brass was waiting with some questions.  
  
Floor by floor, they worked as quickly as they could. Catherine knocked on room 412 with Grissom six doors down, trying to explain to the occupant why they need him to go downstairs. Alex was on her right, at room 410. Bobby was half way half way between Grissom and the women; he too trying to patiently explain the situation to the man who'd answered the door.  
  
Catherine heard the chain bolt slide open from the other side of the door. The knob turned slowly, but the door opened quickly as if a gust of wind had pushed it open. The woman who answered the door had a towel draped around her, and glanced at Catherine's face, then at the badge hanging from a chain around her neck. "Well." She said with a little bit of surprise in her voice. "I didn't expect you here so quickly. He's in here."  
  
Puzzled, Catherine ran her eyes up and down the woman, and only then saw what looked like blood on her hands. "Eames." Catherine said just loud enough for Alex to hear. Alex glanced over at the sound of her name in time to see Catherine reach to the small of her back and pull out her gun.  
  
Immediately, Alex called down the hall, "Goren. Grissom." Then followed Catherine in to the room.  
  
Mindy stood over Terrance. He laid on the floor face up, his feet near the room service cart. A steak knife stuck out of his chest, only the handle showing, the blade was sunken all the way into his flesh.  
  
"I killed him." Mindy said simply. "He cheated on me, and I killed him."  
  
"What's his name?" Catherine asked gently, not yet knowing the dead man in front of her was the same man they'd come looking for.  
  
"Mark Price." Mindy answered. The hairs on the back of both Catherine and Alex's necks stood up on end. "He's a movie star." Mindy continued. "Perhaps you've heard of him?"  
  
Bobby and Grissom came in to the room cautiously, and heard Mindy say Marks name. They glanced around the corner of the room, and saw the dead man lying on the floor, Alex was slipping her gun back in to its holster as Bobby walked up behind her.  
  
"Well?" Mindy asked impatiently. "Haven't you heard of him?"  
  
"Of course." Catherine answered quietly. "I love his movies." She glanced at Alex out of the corner of her eye. The man on the floor was not Mark Price.  
  
"He cheated on me with some skank, feistycheerleader." Mindy continued. Bobby and Alex each closed their eyes for a moment then glanced at each other, seeing their own regret reflected in the others eyes.  
  
~~  
  
Two days later New York City - One Police Plaza  
  
"And you're sure it was the right guy?" Captain James Deakins asked after Alex finished her report.  
  
She nodded. "The stolen credit cards used to pay for the Internet service and the hotel rooms were found in Suttons wallet, Vegas CSI's found three sets of false teeth and four wigs, one of which is a good match for the hair found at the first Vegas scene. The e-mail on the laptop had folders for each of the victims, with all their correspondence and five others that he hadn't yet 'invited' to come meet him."  
  
Deakins nodded. "Good enough."  
  
Alex and Bobby understood that was a dismissal and left the office.  
  
When they reached their desks, Alex watched Bobby as he sat heavily down in his chair, leaned back and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Mindy?"  
  
"Yeah." He answered, then sat up in the chair and met Alex's eyes. "Her face will stay with me for a long time."  
  
Alex nodded in agreement and sat down. "I heard from Catherine. She's talked to Mindy's doctors; Mindy has already forgotten what happened. She keeps asking the nurses if Mark Price has come to pick her up yet. The doctors say she doesn't even realize she's in a hospital, she thinks she's at a spa for the rich and famous."  
  
Bobby shook his head and put his face in his hands.  
  
"Look at it this way. . ." Alex began, "the bad guy's dead, he won't be killing any more women, and Mindy is getting the help she needs."  
  
When Bobby didn't respond Alex gave up and left him to his own thoughts. A few moments later, the phone rang. Taking a deep breath, Bobby lifted his head, blinked a few times to clear his blurry eyes then answered the phone, beginning a new case. 


End file.
